I feel comfortable in a position of leadership, but that's not to

Hear the words of Nicola Sturgeon, a leader tested by storms and entrusted with the hopes of a people: “I feel comfortable in a position of leadership, but that’s not to say I feel complacent about it. I take it incredibly seriously.” In these words lies the delicate balance every leader must strike—the ease of stepping into responsibility without shrinking from it, and the solemn reverence for the burden of guiding others. To lead is not to bask in comfort, nor to grow idle in one’s role, but to accept both the honor and the weight with unwavering seriousness.

The ancients knew this balance well. In Rome, the consul held great authority, yet was reminded by tradition that his power was temporary and tied to duty, not self-glory. In Greece, generals were chosen for their skill and courage, yet judged harshly if arrogance or negligence cost the lives of their people. To be “comfortable” in leadership meant to possess the confidence to act, but to avoid the arrogance that breeds complacency. Sturgeon’s words echo this old wisdom: a true leader stands firm in their role yet never forgets the grave responsibility it carries.

History gives us striking examples. Consider Winston Churchill. In Britain’s darkest hours, he felt comfortable in the role of prime minister, for he trusted his own resolve and experience. Yet he was never complacent—he carried the war effort with tireless vigilance, often working late into the night, always aware that a single misstep could spell doom. His seriousness about the task preserved not only a nation but the free world. Like Sturgeon, he knew that to accept leadership meant to accept the burden of eternal watchfulness.

Yet her words also stand as a warning. Too often those who feel comfortable in power allow that comfort to turn into self-satisfaction, and from there into decline. History is littered with kings who grew fat on luxury, generals who underestimated their foes, and rulers who believed their position was a throne of privilege rather than a seat of service. Comfort without seriousness leads to ruin. The comfort of a leader must be that of a warrior familiar with his armor—not relaxed into carelessness, but steady, prepared, and alert.

Sturgeon’s insight also carries a modern weight. In an age where leadership can be treated as performance, where the appearance of strength is sometimes valued more than the substance of responsibility, her words call us back to the heart of the matter. Leadership is not about complacency in status or the glamour of office—it is about the seriousness of choices that shape lives, communities, and nations. To take it lightly is to betray the trust of the people.

The lesson for us, O seeker, is this: if ever you are placed in a position of leadership, embrace it with confidence but never with complacency. Be at ease in your role, for doubt paralyzes, but let the weight of your duty keep you humble and alert. Approach decisions with gravity, for they ripple outward beyond what you can see. Remember always that to lead is not to be served, but to serve.

Thus, let Nicola Sturgeon’s words endure as a reminder across generations: to feel comfortable in leadership is strength, but to take it seriously is wisdom. Walk with both, and you will not stumble. Reject complacency, embrace vigilance, and carry your responsibility as one who knows that the lives of others are bound to your choices. For in this lies the true essence of leadership—not in comfort alone, but in the sacred seriousness of service.